clashofthedragonsfandomcom-20200214-history
Destinies
Destinies is an encounter in Blood of Heroes. Enemies * Duel of Destiny (6500 Gold, 800 XP, 500 Energy, 1 HP) Transcript Introduction It should be impossible, absurd. A sign that you've become as unhinged as the demagogue himself. The countryside is vast, and you have no idea where the soldiers have taken Roderick. How could any sane man expect to find him? But it isn't impossible or absurd. Because fate has filled your life with inconceivable coincidences, events and meetings that by all rights should never have taken place. So you ride over hills and plains -- entrusting yourself to the very powers whose meddling you once cursed. You look upon the armory as you gallop across a distant ridge, scouring the landscape with your gaze. It's a charnel house. Battalions of butchered corpses stand horizontal guard around its walls, while joyless soldiers camp downwind and lick their wounds. This is what Roderick's grand endeavour amounted to... Royal patrols scurry across the horizons like ants, but none draw near enough to waylay you. And save for them the world seems untenanted, yielded to the trees and beasts. Only the thundering of your horse's hooves and dreadful imaginings keep you company. Everything you've striven for since you came to West Kruna... It all hangs above you, suspended in a pair of immense scales that are poised to tip your future into the abyss. One word from the demagogue and your reputation will be destroyed. Perhaps the very name of the Kasan family. No! You'll find him! You're %name% Kasan, and this is your- Trees close in around you, casting a veil of darkness on a narrow path. Your wandering mind didn't even see the wood. Yet destiny drew you, as you hoped and prayed it would. Because a man's walking through the trees. And even in the gloom, a single glimpse is enough. "Roderick?" "%name%?" He emerges from between the trunks. You leap down from your horse. "They said you were a prisoner!" "Clara freed me." His eyes smolder, glowing embers that burn amongst the shadows. "Come with me." You walk towards him. "This horse will carry us both far enough to get us past the patrols, then we can-" "Get away from me! You think I want your help? The help of a coward who ran while better men fought like lions and died warriors' deaths?" You recoil as though struck. "I..." "You betrayed them! We should have died at their sides, both of us. With the true heroes who sacrificed everything in the name of freedom. I had no choice... But you did. And everyone will know that." "You can't! I-" "Go home, back to your family's estates. This land isn't for you." The demagogue turns his back and walks away, amongst the gathering shades. You run after him and grab his shoulder. He spins round and pushes you back. "Roderick! I'm sorry! I-" "Don't touch me! You're nothing to me, %name% Kasan. And when I tell the people what you are, you'll be nothing to them either." "Roderick, think! The rebellion needs me..." The words fly from your lips before you can pull them back. He stares at you for a long moment, almost stunned. "You..." Fire and incredulity mingle in his eyes. "You think we..." "The people need a hero! That's why they brought me here, that's why-" He says nothing, but his sneer cuts you to the bone. The demagogue starts to turn away again. This time you spin him back by force. He growls and knocks your arm aside. "I can't let you spread lies about me." "Lies? Lies! I'll speak nothing but the truth! You're a coward, and the people deserve to know!" You draw your sword. "I don't want to hurt you, Roderick." His eyes widen. "You... You'd murder a man? Is that how you've come to our land to play hero?" "You don't understand! The kingdom needs me, the rebellion needs me! I'm the Kasan! I'm the one who saves West Kruna, the one who overthrows Crenus! It's my destiny! Do you know what I've done, while you were brawling in lanes and calling yourself a champion? I cut my way through an oroc empire. I fought the king's men in Nordent. I met Solus, the Dragon-Rider's own drake. I brought down Otto von Malhaven. I defeated a legion of demons in the fires of hell. And you think a pitchfork makes you a hero, you worthless lunatic? Without me the rebellion will fail! The people will suffer! I can't let that happen, damn you!" "Of all the stupid, arrogant... You're a disgrace to the Dragon-Rider's blood!" Your cheeks burn, and a wordless cry erupts from your throat. You swing your sword. Conclusion brawl boss unlocked! Roderick catches your blade on his pitchfork and parries it aside. You kick at his groin, but the butt of his weapon thuds down on your knee, sending a burst of pain through your entire limb. A spell rises on your tongue. The side of the pitchfork's head smashes against your jaw, jarring your teeth, shaking your brain, knocking the spell back into the ether. You thrust through the haze. But a sturdy leg hooks yours, and a wooden shaft thrusts against your sternum. The back of your head bashes the ground. Lights dance in your eyes. And there he is above you, like a barbarian, a berserker, a fiend from the pits of hell. Roderick's ferocious beard and blazing eyes. And the prongs of his pitchfork -- plunging to slaughter you. The demagogue falter. Those deadly metal points stop and quiver. And from now until the day you die you'll tell yourself that he stumbled, lost his footing. That when he opened his mouth it was to utter a curse. You launch yourself at him, propelled by a burst of desperate swiftness. Your left arm wraps around the neck of his weapon -- capturing its deadly head, yanking him down towards you. And your sword pierces his throat. *** The village is quiet. Its streets and square are dark, save for the lights that pour from the windows of a round stone building. It's a grand little structure. Far older and possessed of infinitely greater artistry than any other hall or dwelling in the settlement. A relic of the past, built long ago and maintained with pride by those who inherited it. You dismount before its tall, wide doors, and take the horse's burden onto your shoulder. It's heavy -- but your muscles are strong. Your masters trained you well. The priest's voice is muffled by the thick wooden doors, and reaches you as an incomprehensible babble. It falls silent when you push the left half of the portal open. Dozens of curious necks crane round, as his congregants try to learn who's intruded on their worship at so late an hour. Some of them gasp, startled by your bloody visage. Others come forward, asking if you need help. There are more gasps when you step through the doorway, revealing your burden. Questions rain down on you from all sides. You give no answers, and the crowd parts before you when you walk down the aisle between the pews -- driven away by your gore-splattered aspect. Parents pull children aside to protect them from the terrible specter. A few burly men struggle through the crowd to accost you. But then someone recognize the ruined face that bobs behind you. "Roderick!" The word becomes a vast susurration, punctured by the occasional cry or scream. Soon there's shouting on all sides. At the front of the pantherium, you lay the body on the altar -- easing it down as though he were a newborn babe. There's silence. You gaze at him for a long, long time. And everyone else does the same. There he lies, an offering to all the gods in heaven, to the men and women of the kingdom, to ambition and folly, to all things light and dark that twist and torture the soul of man. A sacrifice to destiny. At last you turn around and speak. You tell the tale of a murdered hero, mutilated and killed by cowards. Slain by order of a king who couldn't abide such a threat to his throne. And as the words pour forth, the fire builds. It begins with sparks in the eyes of every man, woman, and child, tiny flickers that turn shock and horror into kindling. It spreads to mouths that open to scream outrage, into hands that clench in fists and yearn to wield weapons. War burns in the pantherium -- as it will soon burn throughout the kingdom. Only one thing remains. A single gesture to complete the mournful tale and imbed it in the minds of all those present. For what could be more potent than when a strong man cries? And so you weep. It isn't hard. The tears come to your eyes and flow down your cheeks unchecked, little glistening trails that mingle with the blood they could never wash away. Category:Blood of Heroes